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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047648">Daymares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalula/pseuds/dalula'>dalula</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Nightmares, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:35:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalula/pseuds/dalula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s all around you. Your ears, nose, touch. If your eyes were open they would meet his kind stare, his lame nubby horns and teeth, and the scratchy stubble on his chin. You won't lick him because, uh, that would be weird. But you could, you could get all up in that Vantas taste if you wanted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Daymares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompt: nightmares</p>
<p>i wrote a fic that didn't involve the dancestors *bows*<br/>pretty much all my headcanons for the ancestors came from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/pseuds/elliptical">elliptical</a>, especially <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244333/chapters/14306779">this series of fics</a>. they're so good!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Blinding red irons, screams, the tightness of a psionic dampener around your neck. You watch the arrow hit its mark in Kankri's stomach and listen as the crowd's cheers drown out the sound of your and your family's cries. Porrim's guards begin to tug her away before her son's breathing has even stopped, and you pull harder against your captors, stretching out for her, screaming and begging any God listening to let you reach her -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You're shaken awake mid yell, the sound catching in your throat. Kankri is next to you, thick eyebrows furrowed in concern as you come back to yourself. Meulin and Porrim aren't in the room for which you're grateful; it’s hard enough letting him see you like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's the third time this wipe you've had a daymare." He says it with careful neutrality. "It's getting worse."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You won't tell him that you've actually been having daymares every day for the last perigree, ever since your journey through the city marking his eventual execution site. It's not an A+ moirail move on your part to keep him in the dark but he's dealing with enough of your problems right now. Explaining to him how you're haunted by visions of his death will only make him feel needlessly concerned; it’s not like he can prevent it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's f- I can manage." You stop yourself from saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>; you don't need another hour-long lecture on the necessity of expressing your feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm." He gives you a doubtful look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His red eyes burn into you, his gaze intense and searching. There's a monologue on the tip of his tongue, you can practically see him swallow his words as he accepts the futility of it. Instead, he lies down next to you and gets comfy on the lusii pelts Meulin lent you to sleep on. Gave you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You're part of the family now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she had said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know it's no sopor but it's better than the floor.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a moment of silence after he's settled as you work your throat, trying to force the words out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Could you, um. I'm, fuck, I." You huff in frustration, glaring up at the tent roof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hold you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much of a pain in the ass as it can be, sometimes you're glad he knows how to read you so well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nod, not trusting your ability to talk right now. Your moirallegiance is still delicately fresh. There's still the awkward phase to pass through where you feel burdensome to ask for a pile or a quick shooshpap after a long day. You've never done this before, not in any healthy way at least, and you’re nervous as fuck that you're going to mess it up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It is not a crime to ask for comfort, Mituna, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>from your moirail. I know how society has taught you that it’s a weakness to need affection but we, trolls as a race I mean, are made for love. I for one believe…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You let his words blur into a murmur and wash over you in comforting waves. There are times when you cling onto every word of his sermons, eager to watch him ignite with passion as he preaches taboo and treasonous lessons on another world full of compassion and equality. But you’ve heard this one before and you're so very tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His arms are around you, on hand tucked to your cheek and the other curved around your waist to hold you close. As he brushes over your cheekbone you fall far too easily into the drowsy, safe place that pacification takes you to. The muscles in your arms and legs slowly slacken, your head settles heavily against the floor, your brows soften. Part by part, he gradually drags you deeper under until you're limp and floating. He's still talking but it's like you're underwater, the sound is just a hum. Impossible to discern individual words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are times when he brings you out from your warm, protected haze that you cry. The pain of remembering yourself again, knowing the things you do, feeling the familiar aches come back to you make you sob and spark and beg for him to put you down again. To take you back to where you were happy and free. To where your damn back didn't have a death wish out for you or a sadistic sea witch wasn't counting down the days until she got her claws into you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You say horrible things to him in those moments, cruel words that you apologise for the second you gather the pieces of yourself back together. But when you first wake up, while your pan is still disorientated and sluggish, there are times that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> him for bringing you back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's another thing to add to your list of self-hatred as if you needed any more reasons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kankri paps your cheek a little harder than necessary as if to shut your mind up. Maybe you were tensing again. You snuggle closer and breathe him in, submerging yourself in his scent. He’s all around you. Your ears, nose, touch. If your eyes were open they would meet his kind stare, his lame nubby horns and teeth, and the scratchy stubble on his chin. You won't lick him because, uh, that would be weird. But you could, you could get all up in that Vantas taste if you wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pap.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, yeah. Relaxing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You remember when he first papped you. It was obvious most of his knowledge had come from his not-so-secret collection of trashy pale novels but at least his heart was in the right place. Whichever of those crappy books had told him it's romantic to jump straight to gland nuzzling was on your mental </span>
  <em>
    <span>to burn</span>
  </em>
  <span> list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While you knew what you were doing, you didn't become the Grand Highblood's palemate for nothing, it was hard to fully relax into it. Kind of hard to get a buzz on when there are two giant ass clubs lying threateningly next to you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s taken time but you’ve started to unlearn your jumpy paranoia. Kankri has never hurt or yelled at you when you pap him wrong or let your lisp interfere with your shooshes. He doesn't get annoyed if you're not in the mood for a feelings jam. He's patient and generous and way too out of your league. You feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him. Safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are no wails from the doomed here, not while you’re in his arms. And when you wake up later and it all comes flooding back you'll try to hold back how much existing hurts. You'll show him how grateful you are that he gives you any reprieve from it at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bad things bingo and homestuck are the only things keeping my mental health from completely dissolving</p></blockquote></div></div>
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